One Gift
by Rickmanlover24601
Summary: Severus is used to taking, to giving of himself, but never to being given a gift freely. Hermione realizes he desperately needs one.


Severus' hands had been wrapped around the tea cup for the last half an hour, during which time he hadn't even tasted the tea Hermione had brewed. Although, with the amount of time he had spent staring intently at the liquid, he could probably have written ten roles of parchment on the subtle coloring of the tea and its scent.

Hermione took one last sip of hers and put her cup down. She swiveled in her seat at the breakfast bar and studied Severus' stern profile.

He had been staying with her for the past week now, biding his time until Dumbledore's funeral. Hermione had understood from the moment he tried to explain himself and offered to pass information onto the Order.

The late night meetings had increased in frequency over the past few days. Each time he came back, he seemed less of himself. The fight in him had almost gone; there were no scowls or biting remarks whenever she did something that usually would have annoyed him- like talking too much. He just let her ramble on without interrupting. Perhaps he preferred listening to her than analyzing his own thoughts. Perhaps he wasn't listening at all.

"Severus. It's really late." It was nearly 4 a.m. Severus had come back an hour before. He had thrown his clothes onto the bathroom floor before he took his usual post-meeting shower. Hermione gathered them up after she had settled him with some tea and began to work the blood out.

Hermione gently prized the teacup out of his hands, and lifted one hand to turn his face towards her.

She ran her eyes over his face, his tired lines, and his darkened eyes, half-lidded. He stared back at her before slowly replying in a deep, raspy voice.

"It's tomorrow."

Hermione lifted her eyebrows. "What is?"

"The Final Battle."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Hermione frowned and rushed to her desk. She scribbled a few words on a piece of parchment. Severus automatically rattled off times, places, and details and Hermione quickly dispatched the information to Minerva.

She then returned to the bar stool, knowing that now was when he needed her most, though he would never admit it. She was glad she had found him shortly after Dumbledore died, but she realized that now was the moment when she would do for him what she wanted to do.

Cupping his head in her hands, Hermione leaned in close, making sure he was looking at her.

"Severus, you have to be strong. And you have to be brave. And when this is over, it will _all_ be over. All of it." Her eyes were wide and earnest. She had to get through to him. She may never see him again.

Severus blinked slowly. He said nothing.

Hermione swallowed, wondering why she was feeling so sentimental all of a sudden. Of course, she had always defended him, always defended any of Earth's creatures. And this man had been broken so many times and yet he still did what he knew he had to.

She leaned in slowly, hoping she wouldn't scare him off. And then her soft lips touched his, gently, hesitantly.

She pulled back and watched him watching her. Then she smiled slowly before kissing him again, deeper, running her tongue over his lips, upon the sensitive inner skin, around his own tongue.

She touched him no where else.

Then she pulled back and stood up. In one fluid motion, she had pulled her t-shirt over her head and dropped it onto the tiled floor. She could tell she had intrigued him. Although he said nothing, his eyes gleamed more intensely than before. His chest was rising and falling beneath his white shirt more rapidly than a moment previous.

She took a step closer to him, putting herself up against his chest, standing between his thighs. She ran her hands through his hair, leaving them to tug slightly upon the ends at the back of his head as she planted kisses on every part of his face, eyes, ears, neck. She slid her hands down to his shoulders, down his arms, and held his hands lightly with her own. They were rough and callous, and quick to grab her hands in return.

She gently tugged him off his seat and led him to her bedroom.

When she got there, she left him standing in the middle, rather like a deer in the wand light. She closed the door with a quiet click and slid out of her jeans.

Severus walked over to the bed and sat on the edge. He watched her as she came over to him and seemed uncertain. But she would have none of that. This was all for him after all.

She sat upon his lap, her legs bent on either side of his, and guided his hands up her thighs, to her waist, where they settled on her back. She sighed and pushed him backwards onto the bed.

Their mouths found each other and hungrily explored. Hermione gasped when, with one flick of his hand, Severus had managed to undo her bra. He threw it on the floor beside them and rolled her over onto her back.

Hermione eagerly slid her hands down his chest, still clothed, and undid the buttons on his trousers. He nipped his way down her chest to her belly button, licking around it, and then pulled her pants down with his teeth, before sliding them off with his hands.

In the work of a moment, he was within her, thrusting hard, his hands pinning hers above her head, her legs wrapped tightly around his back, her pelvis arching upward.

Afterwards, she watched him sleep. She hadn't really planned that. She just knew that for once, she wanted him to have something he could take that was given willingly, without the need to give anything back.

In the morning, she knew they would go their separate ways, perhaps never to meet again. She would not pine for him; she was logical enough to realize she did not love him. She did not pity him. She just knew he was in need of help, of company, of _something_ and she wanted to be the one to give it to him. One gift, given freely.

Hermione pulled the covers over herself. She ran her eyes over him again, fully clothed still, while she was completely naked.

One gift. For one night.

She closed her eyes and slept.

* * *

He was gone before she woke the next morning. It was a grueling day, one she would love to forget but never would be able to. The next time she saw him, he was lying on that dirty floor of the Shrieking Shack, bloody and bruised, his life spilling out onto the floor, seeping towards the toe of her boot.

Harry and Ron quickly ran ahead. She took a moment to look into his eyes, her own creased with concern.

"Go." His voice was even huskier than the last time he had spoken to her.

"I can't leave you like this-"

"GO! I'm fine."

If time was on her hands, she would have launched into an argument detailing all the reasons why he couldn't possibly be fine. But time was something she did not have.

He saw the concern in her eyes and quickly squeezed her hand. "I promise. I'm fine. Go."

Hermione took one last look and ran in the direction her friends went.

* * *

Two years later, Hermione was sitting at the same breakfast bar, half a grapefruit and a cup of tea beside her, her eyes reading over the obituaries. Just that morning, the last of the Death Eaters had gone to meet his fate. Hermione closed the newspaper, finally feeling as if she was closing a chapter of her life that she fervently hoped would never be repeated.

She frowned, and pushed the stool away from the countertop, when she heard a smart rap on the front door.

She padded over in her slippers, and tied her dressing gown around her waist. Her wand in one hand, she slowly opened the door with the other.

A very much alive Severus Snape stood looking back at her.


End file.
